There might've been conversation. Something to discuss. Something to talk about. A decision made, maybe even a bit more joy brought into his life - if their conversation had continued. Instead, they were interrupted, the relative silence shattered first by the Head Doctor and then by the horrendous, high-pitched whine and the shattering of glass. Shinji yelped and ducked instinctively, clapping his arms over his head. The horrible noise died and slowly, slowly, things went back to normal. Or relatively normal, anyway.
He stood again, looking shaken. "What... what was that? What happened?"
He hadn't really understood half of the Head Doctor's rant, but he had at least managed to work out the part about hypocrisy and the idea that someone was going to learn something (not that Shinji considered himself a hero). He glanced over at Kaworu, eyes wide. "What's going on...?"
And then his shadow jumped out of the corner of his eye and he glanced at it. No, it was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes were playing tricks on him. That's all. As he turned to speak again, it came again. He fidgeted, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and very afraid. "...what now?"
Shinji's hair reflected the new glow, and it pooled on his cheeks and nose, bringing forward features Kaworu hadn't seen in proper light or full darkness. He stared for a moment to memorize it, but it would be associated with that fear. Shinji couldn't hide it. It shook him, and made him appear frail. There was a strength within Shinji that Kaworu knew, but in the wake of the intercom, it wilted. Shinji lost whatever had created the smile earlier, and so Kaworu had lost it as well.
He lifted a hand, and laid it on Shinji's shoulder. He had wanted to touch his hand, but knew that he would avoid it, at least now. The feeling of cloth under his fingers didn't reassure him, but it could calm Shinji. He hoped it would calm Shinji.
"I want to know more," Kaworu breathed, letting his gaze drift away from Shinji and down the hallway. He knew its length, but there was something endless about it all the same. Even with the new illumination, it remained unknown and hidden. Nothing seemed more out of place than the light. It distorted the movements of his shadow on the wall.
His eyes returned to Shinji, swiftly but calmly. The hand on Shinji's shoulder slipped some, and Kaworu thought he could find a heart beat if he focused. He didn't wish to be alone. He hadn't wished to be alone since meeting Shinji, but now it grew in him until he spoke. "Will you stay with me?"
He felt the warm weight of a hand against his shoulder, through the cloth of the baggy shirt. He tensed for a moment and then slowly tried to relax, shoulders dropping. His breathing was still erratic, still scared, as he glanced up and down the hallway. Was something about to come out of the shadows? Was this entire place about to become nothing more then the fevered dreams of his imagination? Or was this just more anguish piled onto everything he'd already dealt with? He shuddered and drew in on himself - and a bit closer to Kaworu, hovering near the only constant in his world.
"...I... y-yes. I just want to know what's going on."
He could swear he saw something move, his own shadow, something just not quite right - but he was probably just seeing things.
Kaworu let his hand drop slowly. Still, he welcomed Shinji staying near, and even when he began to move, he hesitated so that they might maintain their closeness. He would not move forward without him. These halls, even without the persistent darkness, refused any illusion of safety. They threatened him in a way that was impossible to shake. If he removed his eyes fully from Shinji, Kaworu wondered if he would still be there. He might disappear into the night, consumed by whatever forces they couldn't see.
"We'll stay together." Kaworu listened to his own voice. It sounded unnatural. Any life was muffled by his surroundings, or the lingering thoughts of a potential future. A future that was dangerous, to him and to Shinji. It was safer, perhaps, to linger here and accept what was and was not. But in doing so, he would resign his free will. It would be his choice to have no say in what the night might hold for him, and still, he longed for something else.
He stood again, looking shaken. "What... what was that? What happened?"
He hadn't really understood half of the Head Doctor's rant, but he had at least managed to work out the part about hypocrisy and the idea that someone was going to learn something (not that Shinji considered himself a hero). He glanced over at Kaworu, eyes wide. "What's going on...?"
And then his shadow jumped out of the corner of his eye and he glanced at it. No, it was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. His eyes were playing tricks on him. That's all. As he turned to speak again, it came again. He fidgeted, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and very afraid. "...what now?"
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He lifted a hand, and laid it on Shinji's shoulder. He had wanted to touch his hand, but knew that he would avoid it, at least now. The feeling of cloth under his fingers didn't reassure him, but it could calm Shinji. He hoped it would calm Shinji.
"I want to know more," Kaworu breathed, letting his gaze drift away from Shinji and down the hallway. He knew its length, but there was something endless about it all the same. Even with the new illumination, it remained unknown and hidden. Nothing seemed more out of place than the light. It distorted the movements of his shadow on the wall.
His eyes returned to Shinji, swiftly but calmly. The hand on Shinji's shoulder slipped some, and Kaworu thought he could find a heart beat if he focused. He didn't wish to be alone. He hadn't wished to be alone since meeting Shinji, but now it grew in him until he spoke. "Will you stay with me?"
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"...I... y-yes. I just want to know what's going on."
He could swear he saw something move, his own shadow, something just not quite right - but he was probably just seeing things.
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"We'll stay together." Kaworu listened to his own voice. It sounded unnatural. Any life was muffled by his surroundings, or the lingering thoughts of a potential future. A future that was dangerous, to him and to Shinji. It was safer, perhaps, to linger here and accept what was and was not. But in doing so, he would resign his free will. It would be his choice to have no say in what the night might hold for him, and still, he longed for something else.
[To here.]
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